Marks Left By Dreams
by totheextraordinarykb
Summary: "At age five, Jane Rizzoli had her first vivid dream. She remembered waking to her own screams - her Ma's face staring down at her, nervous, her brothers cowering behind Ma's legs, peeking out timidly at this unfamiliar scene. Ashamed to have put those looks on their faces, she resolved to never scream out again. After that night, she never did." Dark, slight AU.
1. Bravery, Determination, Stupidity

A very quick AN to say: main character death is mentioned (multiple times) but the character doesn't ACTUALLY die. It's still very dark at times. And I don't own Rizzoli & Isles

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_**CHAPTER ONE: BRAVERY, DETERMINATION, STUPIDITY.**_

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_"I really like it when a bad dream doesn't scare you...it inspires you instead." ~Fwah Storm_

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At five, Jane Rizzoli had her first nightmare. She remembered waking to her own screams - her Ma's face staring down at her, nervous, her brothers cowering behind Ma's legs, peeking out timidly at this unfamiliar scene. Ashamed to have put those looks on their faces, she resolved to never scream out again. After that night, she never did.

At ten, she rolled off her bed during the night, banging her elbow on her bedside table as she swung at imaginary assailants. By the morning, it was a vivid purple, swollen, and unable to be moved. She'd had to put it in a sling for a week, but she shrugged it off, saying she must have injured it during basketball and it swelled up since she didn't ice it. Nobody noticed the other bruises and scratches from other nights, accumulated while fighting in her sleep, because it wasn't unusual for Jane to sport multiple injuries at once. With time, she moved less and stayed under more calmly, and the marks faded.

It was at twelve when she realized her dreams weren't normal. She didn't wake it cold sweats after them, didn't want to snuggle with her parents, and never cried herself back to sleep. If anything, she arose peacefully, content. But when her friends told her about dreams of kissing the football star or of their 'nightmares' of attending class naked, she wondered why her dreams were never that way.

From the beginning, even at five, her dreams had been dark. She dreamt of tragedy: her family being kidnapped, her friends being killed, people being tortured, herself being chased because she had stopped a murderer. She dreamt of violence and death - others', but just as often her own. She would watch as she was murdered, as she took her last breath, and she'd wake in the morning and keep going like nothing had happened in the night.

At fifteen, she recognized the pattern. She'd started dying a lot more in her dreams as she got older - throwing herself in front of bullets meant for others, attracting the bad guys' attention so captives could escape, trading her life for theirs. She'd watch as she took her last breath, and her dream self's last action was always a smile, permanently frozen by death. She woke happier in the morning after those dreams. It was the ones where she failed that haunted her. She'd get trapped in loops within the dream, getting SO CLOSE to saving everyone only to watch as the others died anyway. And the dream would restart, Jane trapped in an endless cycle, armed with her new knowledge but making yet another fatal mistake.

Those loops haunted her. They made her calculate all day what she should have done differently, how to beat the dream, how she could sacrifice herself for the cause. Those were the dreams when she'd have to cover up dark circles, shake off teachers' concerns, hit her friends who dared to remark on her complexion. But all the while, she calculated how to sacrifice for the cause. She wanted to sacrifice for the case.

Because she never could win without dying herself. She'd learned to accept that. And she realized that all she wanted for her life was to die with meaning.

She considered the military but knew that as a woman she'd never see as much of the front lines as she wanted - _needed_ - to be truly useful. She didn't think she'd be challenged enough as an enlist and she wasn't ready to wait for the four years of college to start as an officer.

She realized it one day when a cop ran by her on the street, hand reaching for his holster - she should be a cop. She'd be a target for bad guys, a woman in uniform. She'd be able to save people and take criminals off the street. And if she made detective, which Jane knew she could, she'd get into some dangerous situations, especially in a city like Boston. She made her decision. She was going to join the BPD.

Her dreams shifted to drug rings and terrorist attacks and shootouts, the largest possible incidents for cops. In her dreams, she'd save them all, and the dream would continue: she saw the honorable funeral, the stories of how many lives she saved, of how even in death she thought of others, and her life was good. She'd wake with a smile on her face.

It took a year on the service before she first feared for her life. She had been working for Vice undercover as a prostitute on a case, and they finally had a suspect. That meant they needed her to keep him "engaged", as her superior officer called it, as they moved into position. She'd taken him to an alley, and she'd kissed him, buying time. He'd pushed her against the brick wall, hard, bruising her back, but Jane had bit back the hiss of pain. His eyes flared with anger at her defiance, and he'd kiss her as his hand closed around her throat, squeezing, growing tighter as time went on.

Jane had had a moment of panic, before she realized - she had to hold on for long enough for her team to get there, couldn't let him get away, do this to any other girls. She'd stolen gasps of air when she could through the compression and willed her vision to hold on a little longer.

She passed out at the moment when her partner arrived, hitting him with a punch that sent him spiraling.

The department had called it bravery. Her partner called it determination. Her mother called it stupidity.

She dreamt for months of how it could have gone differently.

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Author's Note: This story is fully written (two scenes need to be revised, but otherwise it's completed), which means I'll be uploading chapters very quickly. Hopefully you guys will like it! Please review if you can - it means the world to me, since this is the only way I'll improve - constructive praise and criticism! I understand this might not be a popular story in this fandom, but her dreams are very close to my heart, so please be sensitive about your reviews. THANK YOU. :)


	2. Come Join Me

Author's Note: triggers abound. This chapter deals with Hoyt for the first time. I pretty much stuck to what we saw in the show - I understand the books are a little darker, but I haven't read them.

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_**CHAPTER TWO: COME JOIN ME**_

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_"Your nightmares follow you like a shadow, forever. " ~ Aleksandar Hemon, "The Lazarus Project"_

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Dedicated, hardworking, and protective of her partners – to a fault at times – Jane passed through the ranks quickly. She volunteered for extra shifts, took undercover assignments, and

The next time she thought she might die, Jane was called to an active shooter scene. Her heart racing, she crept around the campus, leading her partner, recognizing this meant she might – would – get hit first. When shots sounded from the opposite side of the building, all the officers in her sector took off running toward the commotion - and she led the pack. The suspect was in custody by the time she arrived with the rest of the team on her heels.

She dreamt of what it would have been like to be O'Neal, the officer that engaged the shooter, how the bullets would have crossed in mid-air, both true to their targets. They collapse in tandem – a kind of poetry to the death, the good falling at the same time as the evil. She dreamt of circling behind the shooter, seeing him draw a semi-automatic out of sight of the others. She'd throw herself into him to knock the weapon from his hand and a lucky stray bullet in the process would bury itself into her torso. She dreamt of negotiating herself for some imaginary hostage, of everyone being safe but her. When the SWAT team stormed, he'd take aim and shoot her as the squad fired. She turned the situation over and over in her dreams, dying a hero's death each time.

The first time she got finally shot on the job she didn't realize it until she got back to the precinct and felt the sting in her shoulder as she filled out paperwork. She'd been so occupied by the officer down next to her that she hadn't realized she'd been hit.

It was the first time she realized how adrenaline would always be her drug of choice.

Jane Rizzoli always went in first. Always. Everyone knew it. She disguised it as concern for her older partner, as determination to save the victims. And that was the truth – she was determined to save their lives at any cost. So it was no different that day; she descended the stairs to the basement, the girl's whimpers sounding in her head, before a crack sounded and she saw darkness.

When she woke up pinned to the floor with scalpels in her palms, she realized how much pain a body could contain. She considered whether she could rip her hands up through the scalpels, but even just keeping them still was sending flames up through her body. She clenched her toes in pain as she fought to keep her body from shaking as she focused on the voice speaking to her. "Janie, wake up, Janie. Ah, there you are." Above her hovered the haggard face of Hoyt.

The glint of the silver at her throat caught her attention. "Yes, it's my favorite tool." He raised it from her throat to flip it deftly between his fingers a few time, the movement practiced. "Scalpels are underrated. They're so small but effective…" his eyes flickered to her palms, "as I'm sure you've noticed."

The sound of a sob – not her own – made her realized the full extent of her situation: she was trapped and she hadn't saved the girl she had gone to rescue.

She had failed.

The thought sent a slight shiver up her body, one that would hardly have been noticeably except it shook her hands against the blades of the instruments in her palms and she involuntarily winced at the pain.

"Very, very effective," Hoyt said, making it clear the pain had not gone unnoticed. The scalpel at her neck was just pressed against the skin, the lightest touch, but dangerously close to death.

She bit her tongue. She might die for nothing, the very death she had never wanted, but she wasn't going to give this asshole the satisfaction of hearing her beg for her life.

"Very brave, Janie." He drew the scalpel in a line, leaving a thin line of blood, no deeper than a light paper cut. "But even if you say nothing, your body betrays you." He touched her chest. "See how fast you're breathing?" Then his fingers danced on the insides of her wrist, and she tried to flinch away, sending shooting pains up her arms. "And the pace of your pulse?"

He leaned closer. "You're afraid, Janie." His voice lowered further, a grave whisper. "That means I've won."

Pulling back, he showed her the scalpel with her blood on it, before moving it back to her neck. "Say goodbye, Janie," and when she heard the shouted "Hey" and two gunshots, she braced herself for the end, assuming that it must be coming, that it was over.

Instead, she saw her partner hovering over her, shaking off his jacket and putting it on her body. She began to shiver and her emotions rushed out, as she lightly cried at the pain that flared with every motion. Korsak's eyes were wide as he lightly said, "Oh Jane," before he took to the radio. "Officer down! H & H requested! That's officer down, EMS needed!" He kneeled at her side again as the response came through from dispatch. Jane only caught the "EMS en route, ETA 2 minutes" before the pain swirled loose in her abdomen. She tried to hold on as her vision blurred around the edges, but when Korsak's face blurred into stars, she let herself fall.

Fall into the blackness and the voice that was calling to her, in that terrible, all-knowing way.

_"Come join me, Janie."_

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Author's Note: H&H is a Boston thing - ambulances operated under the Department of "Health and Hospitals", and officers (particularly older officers, as Korsak is) still use that code for Boston EMS sometimes. (There should be more to the radio call than that, but I don't know Boston's code system well enough to get it all right, so excuse the simplified one.)

The reception to this story - particularly the PM messages - have been overwhelmingly encouraging to me. This story is a labor of love, and so dear to me. All messages are so very very appreciated. The next chapter will be longer, but this was honestly the best place to end this one, hence the shorter-than-usual length. I hope you all continue to enjoy this story, as dark as it might be.

In the next chapter Maura makes her appearance - I promise! :)


	3. You win, You won

Author's Note: If you've been reading this story all along, you already know the drill - it's dark and there is 'main character death' even though she doesn't actually die. Also I don't own Rizzoli & Isles, the quote, or the song contained within. (Go figure.)

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**_CHAPTER THREE: YOU WIN. YOU WON._**

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_"It's strange how dreams get under your skin and give your heart a test for what's real and what's imaginary." ~Jason __Mraz_

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Jane marked the day Maura went from a friend to her family by a dream, too.

Jane struggled against the rope bonds that kept her firm against the arms and legs of chair, trying to get free, when she noticed the window and the sobbing medical examiner on the other side of the pane of glass. Jane renewed her efforts, desperate to get free, to save Maura.

With one last fierce twist, causing a rope burn that bled slightly, Jane got free of her bonds, only to find she was in a white room with no escape – no doors, no air vents, nothing but the glass window. She heard a whoosh and turned with apprehensions. White gas began billowing into the room behind Maura. Jane pounded her fist against the glass, and for the first time Maura looked at her. "Jane?" Her voice shook.

"Maura, Maura, can you hear me? Can you see me?" The blonde nodded. "Okay, Maura, I need you to try and get free, okay?"

Maura shook her head. "I can't."

Jane placed both palms against the glass. "Yes. Yes, you can. I know you can. Just keep twisting your arm okay, and try to get a few centimeters out."

The woman started crying again. "I can't, Jane." She twisted feebly, and Jane could finally see why Maura couldn't get free – her bonds were far tighter than Jane's had been. "I can't get free."

"Okay, Maura. I want you to breathe, okay. Try and calm down, okay?" Jane looked at the gas behind Maura's head. There was more of it, and Jane didn't know how much longer she had. "I'm coming, Maur." She realized this was the first time she had called the doctor anything other than Dr Isles or Maura, but the nickname felt right for them. "Maur, I'm coming, okay?" More sobs sounded, and Jane knew she had to get Maura to calm down.

As Jane searched her room for an exit, she started speaking. "Okay, Maura, remember that day we met? Yeah? You thought I was a prostitute, remember? I remember I couldn't believe this woman had just put on gloves to hand me money and honestly thought I was a prostitute." Jane ran her hands along the edges of the window, searching for a crack. There was none. "It was flattering, honestly. I had thought I was doing a terrible job of actually blending into the "street" crowd. The guys were giving me so much crap over it. And here you were, in the middle of the department, not realizing I was a detective despite the fact I was in the precinct's cafe. It wasn't until later I realized – what with your attire – you probably didn't have much to compare me to."

Maura had stopped crying, and instead was smiling lightly. "You seemed a little over confident for a street walker, that's true. I just figured…"

"The clothes fit. I know. I'm still surprised you made the assumption though, didn't have to find out all the facts first." Jane's voice was teasing, but her actions betrayed her nervousness. She was running her hands up every inch of wall, trying to find a purchase of some type. She suddenly realized that if there were no air vents in this room – it wasn't just Maura who was in danger of dying. She'd suffocate too.

She turned to look at Maura, tried to calculate how thick the pane of glass was. "Okay, Maura. Here's the deal. Don't be worried, okay? But I'm going to try and break the glass. You good?" She waited for the blonde to nod at her before she grabbed the chair where she had been tied up and hurdled it at the mirror. The glass didn't even shake on impact, but the chair shattered. Jane couldn't help exclaiming, "DAMN IT!" Maura cowered, folding in on herself, a sob sounding from her lips. Jane admonished herself, knowing that in order to keep Maura calm. "Hey, Maur, don't worry, okay? I'm working on this."

Another sob reverberated, and Jane searched for something to calm down the doctor. She smiled through the glass as an idea occurred. She hummed the first bars of an inside joke – the song she had put on as Maura closed during a particularly hard autopsy, singing it to the dead body on the table.

Maura smiled when she picked up the tone. "What makes you beautiful?" Jane nodded. "I can't believe you."

Jane started lightly singing the song from the beginning, looking around her room in a last ditch attempt to notice something she missed. "You're insecure, don't know what for, you're turning heads when you walk through the door…"

And then she saw it: the camera that inched out of the wall for the first time. It was out of Maura's sight, on the same wall as the window, and she didn't want to call attention to it yet. She turned back to the medical examiner, who was whispering the words along with her singing, as though they were a life line. "Everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but you…"

She narrowed her eyes at the camera, and then looked to Maura. "Can you keep humming that for me?" Maura lightly hummed the chorus. Jane moved out of the window and looked up at the camera. She tried to harden her face, but she couldn't disguise the pleading tone in her voice. "What do you want from me? I'll give you anything. Let her go. I know you want me and not her – don't hurt her." The camera tilted a little, mimicking a person's cocked head, and she couldn't help the swear that escaped her lips. "You sick fuck." Seemingly from nowhere, a note appeared, floating down from the ceiling. Jane grabbed it and read it. _"You're not going to win this one."_ She looked back at the camera, bristling. "I am. I'm going to get free and save her, just you see."

She checked back on Maura, who was caught in an endless loop of the chorus. When she saw Jane, she looked up with panic. "I can't remember the next verse." She was breathless by the end of her exclamation, and Jane could see that Maura was having a harder time breathing.

"Maura, okay, listen to me, just breathe, okay? Don't worry about the song. Just listen to my voice, okay?" She took a deep breath, ignoring the voice in her head telling her that she was just using up her own air more quickly. "Remember the case last week? We came across that terrible mangled carcass, and you were able, from that mess, to determine the sex of the victim? That was amazing. I didn't tell you that then, but we were all so impressed. Korsak said you saved our ass on that one. Then you managed to figure out her profession and it was… it was incredible, Maur." Maura's lips were turning blue, and Jane was panicking, trying to keep her alive just through the force of her love for her friend. "You're incredible, Maura. I've never had a friend like you – one who would tolerate me, who would challenge me, who was so smart and so caring all at once. Come on, you've got to hold on, okay?" Maura couldn't respond, and Jane knew she had only seconds.

A second piece of paper fluttered in front of her face. She grabbed it and read the note, the same message again: _"You're not going to win this one."_

She turned to the camera, her palms still pressed against the glass, as though she could fall through and breathe life into Maura. With a deep breath, she spoke. "I know. But kill me instead. Let her go. You win. But please, just let her live." She stood up taller. "You win. You won."

And she cried as she saw the white gas retreat from Maura's chamber, as the blonde stirred. She cried when she saw the bonds fall from Maura's wrists and a door appear in the wall behind her. "Oh thank God," Jane exhaled, as the white gas began pumping into her room, a note fluttering down with it. _"She'll be safe forever when you're gone."_ Jane smiled. "Good," she whispered.

She looked up into the window to see Maura's face pressed against it. "Jane? Jane, come on!"

Jane stood on shaky legs to face Maura, putting her palm over her friend's on the glass. "Hey you." Her voice oozed acceptance. It was steady, resigned.

"Jane, come on! You have to fight." Maura's voice caught.

"Hey, Maur. It's okay. But you need to go, okay?" Maura shook her head, a frantic sob. "Maur, think about it this way. I can't get free – you can see that – but maybe you could get to people who get me out." Jane knew there wasn't a chance in hell, but she didn't want Maura to watch her die. "Come on, Maur. Go get them, okay? Go save yourself so our family doesn't have to bury both of us."

Maura looked at her uncertainly. "Jane…"

She mustered all her strength. "Maura! Go now!" And the blonde turned and ran. On the white wall she saw the outcome reflected: Maura escaping from the wearhouse, Maura rushing into Korsak's arms, being hugged by Ma at a family dinner, marrying a good man, having a child, dying at an old age after a good life… Jane smiled. On her last exhale, she spoke the words she knew she had to in order to keep Maura safe. "You won."

Jane could lose, she could die, because Maura lived.

Her body fell to the floor, a smile still on her face. A jarring sound reverberated through the small room that held her body, shaking the walls. It had that hint of familiarity – and with a jolt, Jane woke up. Her cell phone was blaring dispatch's ringtone. She groaned as she reached over to pick it up. "Rizzoli." She listened as dispatch gave her an address. "Alright. ETA 20 minutes. Thanks." Hanging up, she got dressed and drove to the scene.

Walking into the park, she spotted Maura and Korsak already hovering over the body. Frost was on the phone, a wallet in hand. She nodded to her partner who waved slightly. "Hey Korsak, Maur, what do we have here?"

Maura looked up, face surprised. "Maur?"

Jane shrugged. "The nickname came to me in a dream." Maura still seemed to need more of an explanation. "If you're gonna be a part of this family, you needed a nickname. Hence Maur."

Maura quietly spoke. "I've never had a nickname before." A smile spread across her face.

Jane felt a warmth inside of her at the broad smile on her friend's face. She was glad to bring this sense of normalcy to Maura's life. "Now you can't say that anymore! Now tell me, Maur, what do we have?" As Maura described the evidence she had discovered so far, Jane realized what the dream meant. Maura was so much more than a friend – she was family. Permanent. Important.

And Jane would do anything for her.

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_Author's Note: Yes I'm a little embarrassed the quote was Jason Mraz, but IT WORKED SO WELL. (Also embarrassed about the song, but not gonna lie... it's so cute to think of Jane using "What Makes You Beautiful" in such a tense moment.)_

_Let me know what you think! __I welcome constructive criticism. :)_  



	4. The Day to Die

Author's Note: "When the Gun Goes Bang, Bang, Bang". Same warnings as previous chapters.

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**_CHAPTER FOUR: THE DAY TO DIE_**

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_"You're never given a dream without also being given the power to make it true." – Richard Bach, "Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah"_

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The dreams never subsided and every night, after spending the day chasing towards the final confrontation, Jane Rizzoli was honestly surprised to still be alive. It seemed like all her life had been preparing for that final sacrifice, but for some reason, it never came. The thought made Jane restless. After a mandatory therapy session, the words had been branded on her file: reckless and self-sacrificing. She wore them like a badge of honor. Where others counted sheep to fall asleep, Jane recounted the moments where she almost died. She had many of them. Reliving them gave her a renewed sense of purpose.

She was going to die one day. She was ready for it.

The dreams no longer were about saving nameless strangers in the course of duty. Increasingly, she sacrificed for members of her family – her brothers, her mother, Maura, her partner, Korsak. Throwing herself in front of a bullet for Frankie. Saving Tommy from a band of murderers who were trying to pin the crime on him. Her Ma meddling in a crime, and being kidnapped, and Jane would hand herself over in exchange. Taking a knife for Korsak, falling down a flight of stairs as she tackled a perp who was aiming for Frost.

Or Maura. Maura taken hostage, Maura shot, Maura dying – and Jane would have to sacrifice herself for her best friend's life.

The dreams kept coming, and Jane embraced the opportunity to prepare. To practice. To die so others could live.

When the day finally came to die, to truly sacrifice, she knew. As Bobby Marino dragged her onto the front steps, she knew she was going to die. Nobody was going to have a clear shot. If they would not shoot now with her desperate pleas, they would never shoot. She understood. She did not blame them.

But, as she heard his poisonous whisper that her brother might already be dead, she has to act. Her brother was bleeding out on a morgue table, Maura was unprotected, and who knows whether there were still shooters left inside?

There was no time. They needed help. The math is simple: if she dies, Maura and Frankie are rescued. It was time for Jane to die.

She acted, determination coursing through her veins. On a shout, she grabbed Marino's gun – this had happened before in her dreams, she realized, this exact scenario – and she angled the gun down, against her torso. She took a deep breath and the memory flashed across her eyes quickly –

_Maura giggled, a smile at the detective's cluelessness. "Jane, really?! No, that is not your stomach. The stomach is located on the left side, up here." She tapped the location on the patient's skin. "This organ," she nodded to the removed organ on the scale, "is your gallbladder; it's nonessential. You can remove the gallbladder and live." Maura dug into the patient's cavity, pulling back the skin so Jane could see. "That's where the gallbladder goes, and see, it sits next to your liver. Your liver's incredible. It can regenerate! Well, it's not considered 'true' regeneration but..."_

The memory faded, Maura's voice drifting away from her. But it was enough for Jane. She just slightly re-angled the gun, sending up a silent plea that she'd hit those organs, and waited for him to pull the trigger.

Fire.

That's what she felt. Fire, burning a path through her, coursing, twisting, rushing. How had Maura never mentioned that she'd feel this pain if she were shot? The flames licked through her abdomen- and the sounds of thousands of drums clashing in her skull, and then the darkness rushing towards her, too fast, too quickly.

And then…

Black.

…

Her eyes flickered open. Maura hovered over her. Was this?… she bit back the thought. The blonde exhaled a single word, the tone soft. "Jane." The brunette tried to move, tried to respond, but the world fuzzed away from her and she slid back into the darkness.

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_Author's Note: _This is crazy short, but it just HAD to stand alone. I tried to combine it with a few things, and it just didn't work. It begged to stand alone.

Also, by the way, it's basically sheer luck if you manage to survive a gunshot wound to the abdomen. But /theoretically/ there are 'better' and 'worse' places to be shot, although yeah. The medicine basically says there's no real way to predict - particularly because of fragmentation of bullets, the rib cage, and the fact that a lot of the real damage isn't done by the bullet itself but the caving afterwards. In other words: don't try this at home, folks.

Reviews are, as always, so appreciated, especially for a story like this that is insanely near and dear to my heart.


	5. No More

Author's Note: If you've been following this story, you know the drill by now - dark. Swear words abound. Trust me. They're deserved.

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**_CHAPTER FIVE: NO MORE._**

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_"I'm suddenly finding it hard to know the difference between nightmares and consciousness." – Lauren DeStefano, Fever_

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Jane awoke with a start, sitting up in the uncomfortable hospital bed – and immediately curled into herself, pain shooting through her abdomen. "Damn it," she grimaced through clenched teeth. "You just got shot, you idiot."

More carefully this time, she unfurled, looking around the private room. It was empty. Completely silent. She slowly brought her legs over the side of the bed, and eased herself onto her feet. Hissing, she stayed still, propped against the bed lightly, until the pain subsided slightly. Leaning heavily on her IV stand, she advanced slowly towards the hallway.

Her door ajar, she looked out into the hallway. While beds and equipment lingered the hallway, there was no sign of life. The hospital was deadly silent, without the constant hums of machines and footsteps of doctors and nurses. Her nerves tingled. This was not right.

She advanced two steps into the hallway, determined to figure out where everyone was, before she heard a voice – _Maura's_ voice – calling for Jane from behind her, inside the room she had just left. The tone was frightened, concerned, and Jane wheeled around, walking as quickly as she could manage.

Her best friend stood beside the window, staring at her. "Maura."

"Jane, please." Pleading.

Why was she pleading? "Maura, what's going on?"

A flash of reflected light alerted Jane to the scalpel pressing against Maura's neck, and she looked behind her friend. She couldn't see anything other than the faint outline of a man, but she could figure out well enough who it was from his choice of weapon. "Hoyt, you motherfucker."

"Come on, Janie." Jane shivered at the voice that so frequently tormented her nightmares. "Go back to bed." The tone was gravely, self-assured, laced with distain. "You don't want to get hurt."

For a moment, the world stood still, before she launched into action, lunging towards Hoyt, growling. "Let her GO!" She landed a punch before she felt invisible hands grab her arms, pulling her back. She struggled to get free, and as she thrashed, she felt the tear of skin and froze, pain flooding through her body. She couldn't move. She wanted to move, but she couldn't. The pain was overwhelming. Looking down, blood was staining the hospital gown that hung from her body. Jane looked up to find Maura, to apologize, when reality flooded in. Tommy and Korsak held onto her arms, Frankie nursed his eye, and Maura – Maura was staring at her, her face terrified. Immediately she sagged, trying to figure out what had just happened. A doctor tentatively approached, carefully loading his weapon of choice – a needle.

She felt the sharp sting as it entered her arm, and before she lost her vision, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

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When she awoke the next time, she was bound to the bed. Looking around, she saw she was back in the precinct's morgue, her wrists tied to the cold metal table. Turning her head ever so slightly, she saw Marino, his back turned to her, bent over a gun, loading it slowly. Silently, she tested the binds, and twisted, turned her arms until she was just almost free. With an exclaimed "shit", her thumb broke, Marino wheeled around – and through the haze of pain, he morphed into Frost.

"Jane!" He hit the call button immediately. "Jesus, did you just break your thumb? I told them the restraints were a bad call." He shook his head. "Doctors."

Immediately it became clear. _Doctors. _And their pain medicine – all it ever did was exacerbated her dreams, caused them to blend with reality. She had to shut this down. Jane locked eyes with her partner. "Frost. Tell them not to give me any more fucking medicine. I'm done with this shit." A clicking sound distracted her, and she turned to the source. A morphine pump. Damn it. "Frost, I mean it." She felt her conscious slipping. "No more fucking medicine. Get me off of this shit."

He nodded. "I'll try my best, Jane."

Her eyes slipped close.

* * *

Sharp pain radiated through her chest, a steady beat, and FUCK, she thought, as she felt a rib break. "Twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty."

Her head was tilted back, and air was pushed into her lungs forcefully, twice, before the compressions started again. Someone yelled out, "Where are those respiratory therapists?" and another announced the arrival of the crash chart. "Charge."

Her eyes flew open. Oh god no. Tell them not to charge. Don't charge don't charge don't charge don't. She could see the doctor, pads in hand, and he nodded to the tech doing compressions. "Clear," he announced as the tech backed away from her. Jane tried to scream no, tried to wave her hands, do anything to stop this, but she couldn't move, and the paddles landed on her chest and…

She'd never felt anything like that – a combination of heart stopping and heart jolting, pain radiating through and stabbing inwards, pain that wouldn't let her out of its grip, kept reappearing in a new place, flooding, clenching. And she wanted to cry out, to express the pain, but it was bundled up and somehow that made it worse. "Resume compressions," oh god no, and the broken rib stabbed against her skin with every movement but she couldn't say anything, couldn't do anything, just endured.

_Hurts, doesn't it? _The voice flooded her mind, and she wasn't sure if it was spoken, or it was always there. _Better you than anyone else. _The tube slid down her throat as they established a more consistent airway. She wanted to gag, to pull it out, the edges of the opening scraping against her lungs, but she couldn't. _I bet I can get you to beg for someone else to take your place. _No!She thought, and someone else's laughter sounded through her brain. No. I can take it. She had to._Can you though? _And a second shock was delivered, the pain accompanied by whispered threats from this unseen enemy.

Her eyes slid shut, and she prayed. Don't have anyone else take my place. But please. Let it stop. Please, just let it stop. When she opened her eyes again, the pain was blissfully gone, no v-tach ever having occurred. It was all just a medication-induced dream. Silent tears, though, leaked from her eyes, shivers trembled throughout her body. Her Ma's nervous hands twisted through her hair, Maura held one of her hands – and a doctor was about to insert a needle into the IV.

"No." The doctor turned, startled by his patient's voice. "You're not giving me any more of that shit."

"Janie! Language. The doctor's just trying to help you. He knows what he's doing." Ma admonished.

"No, he doesn't." Turning to the doctor, she spoke, slowly but authoritatively. "You can help me by not giving me any more of that stuff. By my count, I've ripped my stitches, punched my brother, broken my thumb, terrified the people closest to me, and endured more than a person should possibly endure – and that's the crap responsible for it. No more." The doctor opened his mouth to reply, but Jane cut in. "No. More. Either you treat me without the pain medications, or I check out AMA. Up to you."

Considering her, the doctor waited a beat, and then nodded. "Alright, Detective. Just Advil from here on out." He saw no need to sugarcoat the truth. "It's going to hurt."

Jane turned to Maura. "Hurting my family is worst." She squeezed Maura's hand lightly, and then looked up at her Ma. "I'm sorry." Ma just shook her head lightly, clearly frustrated that Jane wouldn't use the medicine. "Hey, tell Frankie that too."

Maura laughed lightly, and Jane turned towards her. "He's been telling everyone it came while apprehending a suspect."

A voice sounded out from the doorway. "It's an impressive black eye. No use in wasting the opportunity." Frankie moved closer, hands held up in a mock surrender. "Hey sis. No punching me again, okay? I like the sympathy sex as much as the next guy, but this still smarts."

Jane winked at him. "Makes you look handsome, though." At his smile, she continued. "Winning. Smashing."

From behind Frankie, Tommy called out. "Like a wimp!" Korsak rounded the corner behind him, clapping Frankie on the back. "Seriously. Your sister – after being SHOT – got the drop on you. You should be ashamed. Hey Jane."

"Hey Tommy, Korsak." Raising her voice, she called out. "Frost, you there too?"

Frost peeked in his head. "Hey partner."

"Hey." Her voice became more tired with the passing interaction. She needed to sleep, but she was desperate to hold onto the normalcy for the first time.

Maura squeezed her hand before speaking lightly. "I think Jane needs to sleep some."

Jane smiled gratefully. "Maura, I'm serious about the medicine. Make sure they don't give me anymore, okay?" When she got the affirmative nod, she turned to the boys, a smile on her face. "Guys, I'm about to go all Sleeping Beauty on you, but thanks. You know, for everything." They shuffled, emotions flickering, and all nodded, virtually simultaneously. Jane would have laughed, but she didn't think she had enough energy. She leaned into her mother's hand on her head, and let her eyes slide shut.

She was aware of Maura tracing patterns on her hand. Letters. "P-L-E-A-S-E-I-L…"

Jane faded into sleep without learning the rest of the letters. Her dream was simple – the alphabet, floating through her mind, arranging and rearranging itself in endless combinations of words, but never the ones she found herself hoping for: **_I love you_**.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ This is the first chapter I hadn't planned out for this story when I started it. But I had a dream one night, and brainstormed on a run, and it insisted on being written. Just as the rest of this story is - it's slightly based on events I've experienced.

Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated. Thank you for sticking with me on this journey. This is the little dark story that could for me - a labour of love and pain.


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